


The Nature of the Struggle

by Imbroglio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, No Plot, because plot and i are not amicable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imbroglio/pseuds/Imbroglio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation between Clint and Thor</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nature of the Struggle

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am trying this whole fanfiction thing out, mostly because I've read a bunch of stories where Thor is the dumb one and I just don't think that's accurate? So here goes.

     “I do not understand,” said Thor. His face was screwed into an expression of mournful concentration.

     “I’ll show you again,” Tony said with uncharacteristic patience. He took the phone form Thor’s fumbling hands and held it so that both of them could see the screen. His fingers moved deftly over the screen, but slowly enough for him to give Thor a thorough explanation of the process.

     “Got it now?” he asked once he’d finished.

     Thor nodded. “I shall remember.”

     Tony slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re almost a functioning member of society, Goldilocks. Keep it up and we might not have to pay the staff’s therapy bills next time you go out to eat.”

     The Asgardian’s face was pained. “That was naught but a misunderstanding.”

     “Yeah, culture shock, different customs, got it. I’ve got an interview in fifteen minutes and Pepper has threatened me with my choice of unthinkable fates it I’m late, so catch you later, show you some more stuff then, tell Jane I said hi.” He breezed out of the room, leaving Thor hunched over the phone, still looking confused.

     As soon as the door closed behind Tony, Clint swung in through the open window. Thor’s face lit up when he saw him, and Clint wondered if the man was ever less than delighted to see anyone.

     “The hawk-eyed one!” Thor said, beaming. “It is well-met.”

     “Call me Barton,” Clint said, not for the first time. He glanced around the spacious apartment. “Nice digs.”

     “Indeed, Stark is a generous host.”

     “Guess everyone’s got their good points.” Clint nodded to the phone. “That one of his toys?”

     “Yes,” Thor answered with a sigh. “I fear I cannot make use of it as he intended.”

     Clint shuffled forward, his hands in his pockets. “See, there’s the thing. When your brother was playing taffy-pull in my head—“ he paused. “Sorry. Your foster brother.”

    “Loki is my brother,” Thor said quietly. “I cannot hope to make amends for what he has done, but I will not make light of his kinship to me.”

     “Right. So I saw things when he had his fingers in my brain. Enough to know that Asgardians—you’re centuries ahead of us, technology-wise. That phone should be ancient to you.”

     “Your words are true. The workings of this devised were surpassed in Asgard long ages before my birth.” Thor smiled. “And my birth was long ages ago in Midgardian rechoning.”

     “So what gives?”

     Thor held his hands up. “I believe Stark has misunderstood the nature of my struggle, and of Asgardian society. He seems to regard us as a culture of magic, having no interest in or understanding of science and technology, when we are simply so far advanced that out tools have reached the level Midgard considers magical.”

     “So you trying to use this phone—“

     “It is as if you were given the tools your ancestors used a thousand years ago.”

     Clint had seen Thor’s good side, and it was as good as they come. But the society that had produced Thor had also produced Loki, and Clint couldn’t forget that. “Why don’t you just tell Stark that?”

     Thor ran his hand through his hair. “I have tried,” he admitted. “Everyone has their qualities, as you say, but subtlety has never been one of mine. And I fear his reaction should I put this matter bluntly before him.

     “Wait,” Clint said. “You’re afraid of hurting Stark’s feelings?”

     “Aye.”

     Clint snorted in disbelief. “Bet you’re the first.”

     “His enthusiasm and patience in discussing his work are good to behold. To destroy such a joy would be as grave a crime as to take the happiness of a child. Such an act is not in my nature.”

     Clint shook his head, but filed the fact that Thor, on some level, looked at Tony as a child. Despite his better judgement, he said, “I’ll talk to him, if you want.”

     Thor’s face lit with gratitude. “You would undertake the matter?”

     “Sure.” Clint shrugged. “He thinks I’m an illiterate hick anyway. Should be easy enough to let him down gentle.”

     “I am most grateful.”

     Clint ducked an impressive arm—Thor’s gratitude could be fatal—and turned to the window.

     He paused. “You know, no one expects you to make up for Loki’s crimes.”

     “Truly?”

     “Yeah. We just want to know you’ve got our back if something like that happens again.”

     Thor nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Hawkeye. Barton.”

    “You know what?” Clint said, climbing out the way he came. “Call me Clint.”


End file.
